Joshua straightened his suit jacket and strode confidently to the front of the courtroom to take the oath.

“Mr. Maxfield,” Swoboda began when his client was seated in the witness box, “what is your occupation?”

“I am a novelist,” Maxfield declared proudly.

“Have you had a successful career?”

“I would say so.”

“Tell the jury about some of your accomplishments.”

“Certainly. My first novel, A Tourist in Babylon, was published to international acclaim soon after my graduation from university. It won or was nominated for several literary prizes not only in the United States, but also in Europe. The critics loved it, and the reading public made it an international bestseller.”

“Did you publish another novel?”

“Yes, The Wishing Well.”

“Was The Wishing Well another bestseller?”

“Yes.”

“In addition to writing fiction, have you taught fiction-writing?”

“Yes, at Eton College in Massachusetts and in high school. My last job was at the Oregon Academy.”

“Would you please tell the jurors how you develop the idea for a novel?”

Maxfield smiled at the jurors. He was charming and, despite the charges they were considering, several of the jurors smiled back.

“Ideas come from everywhere, and they come when you least expect them. The idea for the novel I was working on at the Academy was born when I was teaching in Massachusetts and read about a home invasion that resulted in the death of a young girl and her parents. I wondered what sort of person could commit a crime like that.

“Quite by chance, a year later, I learned of another, similar murder. I became fascinated with the concepts of good and evil, much as Robert Louis Stevenson was when he wrote Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I decided that I would write a book from the viewpoint of a truly twisted mind. I went to the library and read newspaper accounts of the two real cases. I read books about serial murderers and the psychology of sociopathic individuals to learn how these people think and act, so my book would have the ring of authenticity.”

“The prosecutor says that you must be guilty because you wrote about a murder that has certain similarities to the murders in the Spencer home.”

“That’s what’s most frustrating for me. I find it impossible to believe that I am being condemned for having a fruitful imagination.”

“What about the snack? How do you explain the fact that a real killer ate a dessert while committing murder in Montana, Connecticut, and the Spencer home, and your fictional murderer eats a dessert in between murders in your novel?”

“A writer tries to engage his reader and he also tries to create characters that feel alive. I wanted my readers to be appalled by my narrator. But a cardinal rule of good writing is that you show instead of tell. Rather than write, ‘My villain is a terrible person,’ I tried to think up an action that my villain would take that would illustrate his depravity. I toyed with several ideas, like having my character murder a pet or a baby, but I concluded that those acts were so repulsive that they would alienate my readers. I wanted to illustrate a point, not make my readers ill. So I wrote a scene in which my murderer eats a snack in between the commission of several ghastly murders. I wanted the reader to conclude that my narrator was heartless and totally devoid of feeling, and I thought that this would be a wonderful way to do that. It is understated, non-violent, and yet truly horrible.

“Now, am I surprised that my art imitated real life? No, I am not. Anyone who could commit those terrible murders in Montana, Connecticut, and here would be just like my fictional killer-cruel and uncaring. I’m not shocked that he did something so grotesque. And, think about it. Would I include that scene in my novel if I had committed the murders? Would I read Terri Spencer a scene that was identical to something that had happened in her house? It would be insane. The first thing I would expect her to do is go to the police. Why would I commit suicide?”

“Let’s move to the murder and assault in the Oregon Academy boathouse. Tell the jury what happened there,” Swoboda said.

“I lived on the Academy grounds in a cottage that the school provided as part of my terms of employment. The grounds of the Academy are beautiful, and I often took walks through the woods in the early-evening hours. That night I was strolling through the grounds, thinking about a problem I was having with my book, when I heard a scream coming from the direction of the boathouse. A second later, I heard another scream. As I ran toward the boathouse I saw a man running away.”

“Could you identify him?”

“No, other than to say that he seemed of average or athletic build. He wasn’t obese or short.”

“Could the man have been Randy Coleman?”

“It’s possible. I can’t swear to that, though.”

“What happened next?”

“I went into the boathouse to see if anyone was hurt. It was dark except for some light from a flashlight that was on the floor. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. That’s when I saw the two women and the knife. Casey Van Meter was on the floor, up against a timber that supported the roof. Terri Spencer was covered with blood. I panicked and picked up the knife for protection. Then I saw Ashley at the window. She ran off and I went after her to explain that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was too fast for me.”

“Why didn’t you follow her to the dormitory and wait for the police?”

Joshua’s head dropped. “I should have. But I’d never seen anything so terrible. There was blood everywhere, and poor Terri…”

Maxfield closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he spoke, he seemed shaken and he cast his eyes down.

“I’m ashamed of the way I acted, but I was terrified and I wasn’t thinking straight. So I ran.”

Maxfield raised his head and made eye contact with several of the jurors.

“I don’t blame Ashley Spencer one bit for what she said about me. She’s a very nice young lady who testified to what she saw. I did have the knife. I was there. But I did not hurt anyone.”

“After you were arrested, why did you escape?” Swoboda asked.

“My lawyer told me that the police were going to use my novel as a confession; Ashley was going to testify that I’d killed her mother and beat Casey unconscious. I didn’t see any way of avoiding conviction, so I decided to escape so I could find the evidence that would prove that I was innocent.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“I believe so. I suspected Randy Coleman from the beginning. The man who ran from the boathouse was too far away for me to identify, but he could have been Coleman. I knew he had a multimillion-dollar motive for murder and I learned later that he’d been convicted of assault. I knew from personal experience that he was capable of violence. I’d seen Mr. Coleman attack Casey Van Meter at the pool.”

“What did you conclude happened in the boathouse?”

“I believe that Casey was his target and Terri was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Did something happen that made you certain that Randy Coleman murdered Terri Spencer and assaulted his wife?”

“Yes. Henry Van Meter died and a new guardian had to be appointed for Casey. Miles Van Meter applied to be appointed. I learned that he wanted to take Casey off her life-support system for humanitarian reasons. Coleman also applied. I believe that he too would have asked to have Casey’s life support disconnected. In either case, Casey would die. Since she had no will, and Coleman was still her husband, Coleman would inherit all of Casey’s estate.

“Then Ashley Spencer returned to Portland and applied to be Casey’s guardian. If Ashley had been appointed Casey’s guardian, she would have kept Casey alive. That meant that Coleman would inherit nothing. It also became general knowledge that Ashley was Casey’s daughter. Under the probate laws, if Casey died Ashley would inherit half of her estate. Whether Casey lived or died, Randy Coleman would lose millions.